Page 59 of Mated to the Monster Under my Bed
Right now I had other business.
I squared my shoulders, raised my chin, and spoke into the gathering dark.
“Wish I may, wish I might, find the Wishing Tree tonight.”
The moment the words left my lips, the world around me changed.
A cold so sharp it stole my breath slammed into me, sinking straight into my bones. The trees I’d been standing among disappeared. So did the garden, the cottage, and the soft protection of Hidden Hollow.
Everything went black.
Not dark, but black—a thick, suffocating absence of light that pressed on my eyeballs and made the air feel heavier. There were no stars. No moon. Hell, when I looked up, I didn’t even see the sky. It was scary.
For a long, frantic moment, panic bloomed in my chest.
Why had I done this? Why had I thought I could just walk out here and find some magical tree like it was as easy as placing an Amazon order?
I didn’t even have any real magic. If something came for me, I wouldn’t have a clue how to protect myself!
But then I saw something—far ahead in the distance—a faint gray shimmer like a low fog bank on the horizon.
There was nothing else to do but move toward it.
I walked. Dried leaves cracked underfoot and invisible branches brushed my cheeks. Apparently the forest wasn’t gone—just rendered invisible because of the darkness. I kept a hand out in front of me to be sure I didn’t run into anything.
The biting cold clawed up my legs, right through my thin leggings. My breath came in little white puffs I could barely see in front of my face.
The soft glow got stronger, brighter with every step, and after what felt like ages, I saw it.
A shape—huge and branching—rising up into the gray light like something out of a dark fairy tale.
It was a tree—a dead one, or so it seemed.
Its thick limbs twisted up into the nothingness of the sky, bare and gnarled like bony fingers. It looked ancient and skeletal, as though it had been waiting here for centuries with nothing to do but dream in the dark.
But that wasn’t what made my skin crawl. No, what sent a chill down my spine was the figure hanging from the thickest branch—swaying slightly in a breeze I couldn’t feel.
It was a man—or at least, what had once been one. A rope was wrapped tight around his neck. His arms hung limply at his sides, and his boots were dangling a few feet off the ground.
I couldn’t see his face, thank goodness—something told me I didn’t want to.
My breath shuddered out of me and I wrapped my arms around myself, holding on tight.
All right, Danni—yes, it’s creepy but you’re here for a reason.
Deliberately, I turned my attention to the tree instead and studied it closely. There were some interesting knots in the bark of the trunk that made for an excellent distraction from the dead man hanging from its branches.
I’d read an article somewhere that said that the human brain is always looking for patterns—which means we have the propensity to see faces in inanimate objects. As I stared at the dead tree’s trunk, I felt like my brain was trying to see a face there.
Two of the twisted knots were positioned in such a way that they almost looked like eyes. A gnarled ridge below them curved slightly—almost like a mouth. Yes, I could almost see it—an ancient, gnarled face.
I leaned closer, examining the tree’s face and then?—
“WELL?” the tree boomed, in a deep, gravelly voice. “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, GIRL? SPEAK YOUR WISH.”
“Oh my God!” I gasped and stumbled backwards, nearly falling onto my ass in the cold black dirt.
Apparently it wasn’t just my imagination—the tree was alive!
